


too fragile just to guess

by SpiritsFlame



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritsFlame/pseuds/SpiritsFlame
Summary: Jamie has done stupider things than agree to go be Tyler's date to the wedding. So what if they'd been sleeping together for two years. So what if they stopped a few months ago. So what if Jamie isn't over it, and probably never will be. He's done stupider things. Just not by much.





	too fragile just to guess

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by [werebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear), who is probably a saint or something.
> 
> Title is from "Fools" by Lauren Aquilina, which I listened to on a constant loop while writing this fic.
> 
> If you found this fic by googling yourself or someone you know, turn back now! You've been warned!

Tyler drops down next to him at the breakfast table, and Jamie can immediately tell that something is wrong. Things have been weirdly not-weird ever since they stopped sleeping together last month, but this is the first time since then he’s really sat with Tyler at breakfast.

(Not since the morning in Tyler’s kitchen, stealing bites off one another’s plates, the dogs running between their legs. The sunlight through the windows, and Tyler’s words from the night before still ringing in his head.)

Tyler drums his fingers on the table as he eats, methodically working his way through a stack of pancakes and plate of eggs. Jamie resists the urge to put his hand over Tyler’s. They aren’t like that anymore—and even when they were, it wasn’t like _that._

“So, are we going to talk about what’s bothering you?” Jamie asks, turning to face him once he’s finished his own oatmeal and bacon.

“Maybe it’s just a hockey thing,” Tyler says, which tells Jamie it’s not a hockey thing. “I mean, Game 6, second round of the playoffs. We’ve never gotten this far before.”

It’s true enough, but Jamie _knows_ Tyler. Tyler is his best friend, possibly the unrequited love of his life, and Jamie _knows_ him.

“We got this,” Jamie says, with more confidence then he feels. “What’s really up?”

Tyler’s leg bounces next to him. Then, biting his lip, Tyler reaches into his jeans and pulls a folded and creased envelope from his pocket, dropping it in front of Jamie.

Jamie picks it up hesitantly, looking at Tyler to make sure he can. Tyler isn’t looking at him, gone back to smothering his pancakes in too much syrup. The tips of his ears are red.

It’s a nice envelope, with a pearlescent sheen. There’s no seal, and Jamie tugs out the card. His stomach drops as he reads the words ‘You’re Cordially Invited…’ and his eyes jerk to Tyler. Tyler doesn’t look at him.

Trying to stop his hands shaking, fearing the worst, Jamie opens it. For a moment, the sheer relief at seeing the name Candace Seguin instead of Tyler Seguin makes it hard to look at the rest of the card.

Then he does, and he has to blink.

 _You are cordially invited to the wedding of Candace Seguin and Thomas Parks_ above a neatly printed date and location.

The RSVP area is pre-filled with a sharpie, and Jamie recognizes the handwriting from other cards Candace has sent them both. Where it says, +1, Candace has filled in a large check mark, and added in smaller letters “Bring Jamie!”

Jamie looks back to Tyler. The flush has spread over his ears and down his neck.

“Huh?”

Tyler moves the eggs around on his plate. “I didn’t tell them that we,” he gestures between them with his fork, almost dripping syrup onto Jamie’s sleeve. “So. They want you to come.”

 _That we were sleeping together. That we stopped. That we aren’t the kind of friends who go to weddings together._ Jamie doesn’t know how Tyler intended to end the sentence, and he doesn’t think that he wants to.

But, at the end of the day, it’s Tyler. It’s Tyler, and it’s Tyler’s family, and Jamie would put himself in a lot more awkward situations than a wedding for them.

“Sure.”

He checks the date, and it’s safely outside of the playoffs, even if they make it all the way— which Jamie is trying very hard not to think about too hard and jinx himself..

“Yeah?” Tyler looks surprised, and Jamie is a bit offended. It’s not such a surprise that he would do something as easy as a wedding for him.

“I mean. Yeah. No big.”

Tyler’s face does something complicated, then smooths into his usual brilliant smile. “Thanks, man.”

 

* * *

 

Details about the wedding come out in pieces as they continue to get further and further into the playoffs. The  couple is getting married in a proper church, with the reception at a hotel Tyler had helped book out for the weekend. Tyler is a groomsman for his sister, who had refused to “loan her brother to her fiance.” The fiance is question is a Habs fan, and likes Jordie better than Jamie, which Tyler has mentioned everytime he comes up.

They make it to the finals. They win. Jamie assists on Tyler’s game winner, and Jamie can feel tears on his face when he lifts the Cup into the air.

He gives the Cup to Tyler first, and when it passes between them, their eyes meet. Jamie feels like everything is on his face, all his love, all his happiness, spilled out onto the ice between them.

Then Tyler lifts the Cup above his head, and the moment breaks.

—

The feeling— the knowledge of being a Stanley Cup winner— carries Jamie well into July. He’s never stayed in Dallas this far into the summer and it’s almost unbearably hot. The original plan had been for him and Tyler to fly into Ontario from their summer locations separately, but as far as the playoffs take them into the summer, it makes sense for them to fly in together.

“I really appreciate this,” Tyler says softly, leaning into Jamie’s space on the plane. His voice is low, pitched so that no one else in first class can hear them. Jamie gets momentarily distracted by the way Tyler bites his lip, and has to force his attention back as Tyler continues. “I know I should have told them— but Candace is so happy with her wedding, and my mom kept asking about it, and I didn’t—I just never got around to it, you know?”

Got around to what?

“No big,” Jamie says again, because he still looks at Tyler and sees the man he’s in love with, who he wants to kiss and adopt dogs with and retire with, but right now he also sees the man who won them the Stanley Cup, and it makes everything else a bit easier.

Tyler’s shoulders don’t relax. “I know. It’s just. I know you don’t— that you aren’t—” his voice breaks, and he turns his head to look out the window. His fingers are white knuckled over the seat divider. “It just means a lot, that you’ll pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Jamie asks stupidly, and Tyler says,

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” like it’s nothing, and Jamie feels the the bottom drop out of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

So. That’s a thing. He doesn’t even get a chance to press Tyler for details, because the flight attendant comes around with their drink orders, and Jamie immediately regrets not making his alcoholic when she’d asked in the first place.

Tyler said it like it was a given, and Jamie doesn’t want to admit that he thought he was going as Tyler’s best friend and Captain, and not whatever the hell Tyler had apparently meant.

What he manages to piece together, is that Tyler had _apparently_ meant that his entire family thought they were dating, that Tyler hadn’t wanted to spoil the mood by correcting them, and that Jamie is going to have to dredge up everything he’d boxed away after he’d called off being Tyler’s fuck buddy.

He doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s not even sure why Tyler’s family thinks they were ever dating in the first place.

 

* * *

 

 

“Let’s do this,” Tyler says as they get off the plane, squaring his shoulder like he does over the faceoff dot.

Jackie is already there to pick them up when they get out of baggage claim, beaming at them both, and giving Jamie a hug just as enthusiastic as the one she’d given Tyler.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says sincerely, holding Jamie’s face between her palms. “Even if it did take a wedding to get you out here.”

“Mom, c’mon,” Tyler protests, and she lets Jamie go.

“I know I saw you both last month, but it already feels like ages,” she says, leading the way to a car. Jamie feels a bit guilty, because neither he or Tyler had much family time in the wake of their Cup win. Jamie can’t even remember most of the first three days after. He remembers pouring champagne into Tyler’s open mouth (because it’s unacceptable that Sidney fucking Crosby had done it and he hadn’t) and seeing Tyler on his knees, champagne spilling over his lips, down his chin, and— and not much after that.

“How’s Candy?” Tyler asks.

“Losing her mind,” Jackie replies. “You’ll see.”

“Can’t wait,” Tyler mutters, mostly to Jamie.

“I already booked you both a room in the hotel,” Jackie continues, acting as if she hadn’t heard.

“Mom, no, I told you-”

“Your house is too far from the hotel. What if there’s an emergency?”

“An emergency,” Tyler mouths to Jamie incredulously. Jamie shrugs. He’s just glad that Jordie and Jenny haven’t gotten married yet.

“Besides, it’s good to have the whole family together,” Jackie says. It’s Tyler’s kryptonite, and Jamie can see him soften. Jamie knows as well as Tyler does what hockey does to family life. At least Jamie’d had Jordie. But Tyler has been living on his own for most of his life.

(When they’d still been fucking, Tyler had admitted how much he missed it, the easy family experiences he saw from other people. Summer is the off season, but all of them spend the majority of it training, building back the muscle they burn off in the season. There’s never enough time for family in hockey, not unless you build your own around you.)

Jamie shouldn’t be surprised when he opens the door to see a single king bed, but he is. Tyler groans when he sees it. “Jesus,” he mutters, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie drops his bags onto the bed and tries to pretend like his heart isn’t racing. “We’ve shared a bed before, it won’t kill us.”

(Part of the reason he’d had to cut off the benefits part of their relationship was because sharing a bed with Tyler had been starting to kill him. By the end of it, over a year into sleeping together, he’d been staying at Tyler’s more often than not, waking up with Tyler pressed all along his front, with Tyler turning in his arms, sweet and pliant, tilting his face up for a kiss.)

But Tyler doesn’t know any of that, and Jamie very much intends to keep it that way.

“I guess,” Tyler says dubiously.

(Tyler, Jamie knows, hadn’t cared about the lack of benefits at all. He’d listened to Jamie tell him they had to stop—heart in his throat, half-hoping Tyler would argue, would show it had meant something to him—and Tyler had smiled. “Yeah, man, of course. Whatever you want.”)

He and Tyler were never road roommates, but a hotel is a hotel, and it’s familiar enough to go through the motions of unpacking; hanging up their suits in the closet, moving things into drawers. Tyler finishes first, and throws himself down onto the bed with a bottle from the mini- fridge.

Jamie watches him, torn between reprimanding him and joining him. In the end, he gets his own tiny bottle and stretches out as well. The bed is large enough that there’s at least a foot between them.

 

* * *

 

As brother of the bride and the guy paying for more than half of it, Tyler had insisted on getting there three days before the actual wedding. He intends to stay a whole week, but he’d promised that Jamie could leave after the wedding, and Jamie intends to take him up on it.

Originally, he had planned to stay longer, but with the looming prospect of being Tyler’s fake boyfriend, when he still hasn’t gotten over being Tyler’s real fuckbuddy, Jamie had decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Dinner the first night is a quiet, family affair, with Jackie, Cassidy, Candace and her fiance, and the fiance’s parents. It’s exactly what Jamie would have expected, everyone fawning over the new couple, asking how they met, getting the story of how Tom proposed from him.

It’s a cute enough story, the kind of thing that Jamie always hears happening to someone else, but can’t imagine happening to him. Tyler listens with his chin propped on one hand, rapt, even though Jamie is sure he’s heard the story before. He probably heard it the night it happened.

Once the happy couple has exhausted their supply of cute stories, however, the attention turns to Tyler and Jamie.

“So, how did you and Tyler get together?” Thomas asks. He seems a bit on the nerdy side, not what Jamie would have pictured Candace going for, but nice enough.

Both Candace and Cassidy groan theatrically. “Now you’ve done it,” Candace says, shoving at her fiance’s shoulder. “You’ll never get him to shut up now.”

 “Dear Diary,” Cassidy says, “I kissed Jamie Benn today, and it was so amazing. I just love his big brown eyes, do you think he’ll go with me to prom?”

“Jamie Benn just scored the most perfect goal today, and his hockey butt is better than Sidney Crosby’s,” Candace adds.

 “Oh my god, please shut up,” Tyler says. He has his face in his hands, and even through his fingers, Jamie can see that his face has gone red. Jamie feels flushed himself, because it sounds like Tyler talks about him to his family, talks about him a lot.

“Did you really say all those nice things about me?” he asks, grinning.

Tyler shoves him away. “No, you're terrible and you smell.”

 “Don’t listen to him Jamie, he loves you,” Cassidy says, and Tyler groans into his hands again.

 Thomas is looking back and forth between them. “Have you two been together the whole time you were on the Stars or something?”

 Jamie opens his mouth, planning to save Tyler, but he freezes. He doesn’t know what answer to give, when he doesn’t know what Tyler has said. When any kind of a relationship is fake, and he doesn’t have a good story to give..

Then Tyler’s hand closes over his, and when he looks over, Tyler is smiling at him, soft and warm. “It’s hard to say. I mean, in a lot of ways it feels like we were together for years.” Everyone coos, and Tyler ducks his head. The only sign of the lie is the tension of his hand over Jamie’s. “But I guess the real answer is that I kissed him, and he let me.” Tyler laughs, a little awkward, and the others laugh along.

Jamie doesn’t because— because it’s true, but Tyler says it like it was a _hardship,_ like Jamie was humoring him.

“It wasn’t quite like that,” he protests. He should just let it go, because anything else they spin out of this will be a lie. Tyler probably has the right idea, saying the bare minimum. “We were playing Mario Kart, and I was kicking his ass—”

“Lie!”

“— and he kissed me in between races to keep me from getting the high score.”

Cassidy grins at them. “Seems like a pretty stupid strategy, sine it means he couldn’t play either.”

“This was more important,” Tyler says. “He gets so into it, you know? God, you’d think it was the Olympic game winner all over again, the way he was carrying on. I couldn’t just _not_ kiss him.” He says it like it’s the honest truth, like he couldn’t have held back another minute, instead of being horny and Jamie being available.

(Jamie hadn’t even questioned it at the time, had dropped his controller immediately to pull Tyler closer. Tyler had all but climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and tangling both hands into Jamie’s hair. He’d pulled a face at all the gel in Jamie’s hair, and Jamie had laughed. Tyler had kissed him mid laugh, until Jamie had stopped laughing, until they were rocking into one another, until they both came like that, on the couch with Mario Kart still going in the background.)

“Just like that, huh?” Candace says, smirking at her brother.

Tyler shrugs. “I always want to kiss Jamie when he’s winning.”

Jamie’s heart turns over in his chest, and he’s starting to regret this. It’s going to kill him, hearing Tyler say all these things like they’re real.

“Feeling’s mutual, babe,” Jamie adds, and Tyler gives him a startled look under his eyelashes, because pet names is one of the lines Jamie never let himself cross.

“No wonder we didn’t see you after the Cup,” Cassidy says, and Tyler groans, putting his head in his hands. His ears are flushed.

(Tyler always gets worked up after a win, had always been so enthusiastic and playful after, sometimes skipping the celebratory bar trips to get Jamie home faster, kissing him almost before they were in the door. One night, Tyler hadn’t let them get upstairs, had dropped to his knees in Jamie’s front hall and sucked him off right there.)

Jamie hadn’t seen Tyler after they left the AAC that night, had tried very hard not to see where he went. He hadn’t wanted to know who else would get to see Tyler like that, flushed from victory, giddy with it.

He makes himself shrug, and hopes that they take his ducked head as embarrassment.

“So, Tom, tell me more about what you do!” Tyler says in clear desperation, and the conversation shifts back the couple of the hour.

In the reprieve, Jamie tosses back the rest of his drink. He’s going to have to be drunk the whole weekend to handle this. When he lowers the glass, he meets Tyler’s eyes almost by accident. A small smile flickers across Tyler’s face, just a small quirk of the lips, and he tips his drink towards Jamie, a miniature toast, before Tyler downs his own drink. It bites worse than the whiskey, that Tyler might need alcohol to get through this weekend as much as Jamie does.

 

* * *

 

They’re both tipsy when they get back to the room, leaning on one another more than propriety would normally allow. Jamie keeps making aborted moves to pull away before reminding himself that he’s supposed to look like this—encouraged even. If Tyler asks, he’s just selling the bit.

This close, he keeps getting whiffs of Tyler’s cologne, subtle and masculine and familiar. He wants to bury his face in the curve of Tyler’s neck and breathe it in and pretend that nothing had changed.

Tyler fumbles the hotel key twice while Jamie laughs at him, leaning against the door frame and making no move to help him.

“Shut up,” Tyler says, not even trying to sound angry. The light flashes red again, and he slumps against the door, giggling helplessly.

“We’re going to have to sleep in the hall!” Jamie says, and they both laugh harder than it warrants.

Tyler misses the slot on the next attempt, and Jamie shoulders in next to him. “Let me.”

“Shhhhhh, no,” Tyler protests.

Jamie reaches for the key, and Tyler moves to hold it out of the way—a futile effort with Jamie’s larger reach. He crowds in closer, stretching out his fingertips along Tyler’s arm, and plucks the key from his hand.

“Ha!” He drops his gaze to look at Tyler, and his stomach swoops. He’s backed Tyler fully against the door, their chests almost touching when they breathe. Tyler’s face is turned towards him, lips parted, laughter gone. His eyes are soft and, as Jamie continues to stare at him, heated. Jamie can’t look away.

Tyler licks his lips. “Jamie,” he breathes, and sways forward.

Jamie shoves the keycard in and opens the door. Tyler all but falls through it, and Jamie doesn’t dare catch him.

For a moment, Tyler does almost fall, alcohol making him clumsy, but he catches himself against the wall, his face turned away from Jamie. His profile, barely lit with the light from the hallway, looks devastated.

Then he turns further away from Jaime and makes a choked noise. After a moment, it resolves into laughter, and Jamie relaxes. It must have been a trick of the light. Without looking back at him, Tyler collapses face first onto the bed and squirms his way up until his face is planted in the pillow. The motion rucks his shirt up his stomach, and Jamie’s eyes are drawn to the sliver of skin exposed between his shirt and his pants.

He goes into the bathroom and splashes some water on his face, trying to draw his thoughts back to the world of friendship. It doesn’t, only really takes the flush from his cheeks. He glares at his reflection as he brushes his teeth, telling himself to pull it together. Sex with Tyler was the problem, not the solution. If he asked, he could probably get Tyler back into bed, could fall right back into being friends with benefits. He doubts Tyler would object, when Tyler had always turned into it like a flower to sun.

But he doesn’t want that anymore— doesn’t want _just_ that. He’d ended it because being so close to what he wanted had been killing him.

(Because that night, Tyler leaning into kiss him while they fucked, whispering impossible things, had taken him apart, and the following morning had made him worried he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together.)

He changes strips down to his boxers and goes back to the main room. Tyler is still stretched out on his stomach, but he’s also stripped down, black boxer-brief stretched tantalizingly over his ass. Jamie closes his eyes and prays for strength. Briefly, he considers just sleeping on the floor, rather than risk sharing the bed with _that_.

But he’s still on the drunk side of tipsy, and he can’t muster up the self control to turn down the warm expanse of skin, the expected irritation of waking up with all the sheets pulled to Tyler’s side of the bed. He drops down onto the bed and nudges at Tyler’s shoulder.

“Bathroom’s free.”

“Noooooo,” Tyler whines into his pillow.

Jamie shoves him, harder. “Go brush your teeth.”

“Fuck you,” Tyler says, no bite.

There was a time that Jamie would have joked in reply, would have turned it into an offer. He bites it back.

“I’ll push you out of this bed, you know I will.”

Tyler rolls over to glare at him, hair already tousled. “Don’t captain me in bed, Jamie Benn.”

“I seem to remember you like that,” Jamie says before he can stop himself.

Tyler’s face goes still, all expression draining off of it. He takes the words like a check, curling in on himself, so slight it wouldn’t be visible if he wasn’t half naked, the bare curve of his shoulders distractingly vulnerable. “I used to,” he says, soft, and rolls off the bed.

Jamie waits until he goes out of sight to bury his head in the pillow and groan. He can hear Tyler brushing his teeth, going to the bathroom, and he knows Tyler’s routine well enough to be under the covers when Tyler gets back. He closes his eyes, feigning sleep. Even drunk, not enough time has passed to justify it, but Tyler allows it, silently climbing into the bed on the other side.

The bed is big enough that Jamie can’t even feel the warmth of Tyler’s body. In the darkness, the distance between them might as well be a chasm.

 

* * *

 

Jamie wakes up with the sun in his eyes and Tyler’s hair in his mouth.

He comes awake in stages, aware of each part of his body in pieces. His head hurts. His left arm is asleep. There is something soft tickling around his beard. He’s warm. And, as all the pieces come together, he can feel a body against his own, his chest flush to Tyler’s back, his right arm over Tyler’s waist, a possessive hand on Tyler’s stomach. He can feel it rise and fall with each breath Tyler takes.

It’s a familiar position, one he’d woken up in hundreds of times in the last two years. It’s too intimate, and Jamie closes his eyes against the press of tears, sucking in a breath through his nose. It’s a mistake, because he immediately is assailed by the smell of Tyler’s shampoo, warm and spicy.

He pulls away, easing his arm out from under Tyler’s body, and sits up on the side of the bed. He hears Tyler stir before he’s fully pulled himself together, and he looks in spite of himself.

Tyler is sleep mussed and beautiful, the light from the window falling on his smooth skin, picking up slight traces of red in his hair. He looks like he might roll over, and Jamie can’t handle having Tyler look at him right now. Tyler has always looked disarmingly vulnerable in the morning, with pillow creases on his cheek and eyes soft with sleep.

Jamie gets up without looking back and uses the bathroom. He brushes his teeth on autopilot, trying not to listen to Tyler’s movements on the other side of the wall.

The hotel room has a shitty coffee maker with shittier coffee, but he starts up enough for two cups anyway. Tyler is always impossible to get up in the morning, and the scent of coffee is usually a good start to get him out of bed.

Then Jamie braces himself for the sight of Tyler, still stretched out in the bed, sleep-warm and inviting, and steps back into the bedroom. He comes to a stop in the doorway. Tyler is already up, half-dressed in jeans and rummaging through his suitcase for a shirt.

“Morning,” he says, shooting Jamie a small smile.

“Good morning,” Jamie replies by rote. He’s seen Tyler awake for an hour and not look this alert. “I, uh, started coffee.”

“Oh, sweet,” Tyler says, dropping the shirt he was holding and crossing to Jamie. There’s a confused, terrible moment when Jamie thinks that he’s leaning in for a kiss. And then he moves past, into the bathroom.

“It’s not ready yet.”

“You don’t know that!” Tyler replies. Then his head sticks back around the wall. “It’s not ready yet.”

Jamie ducks his head with a grin, momentarily overwhelmed with affection. “If you brush your teeth now, you’ll have time to get the taste out before it’s done.”

Tyler makes a face. “Thanks, _mom._ ”

Jamie bites his tongue against the reply, busying himself with finding his own clothes for the day. He’s not sure what’s planned, so he takes his cue from Tyler and wears jeans. After a moment’s consideration, he pulls on one of his nicer polos, the sleeves short enough to show off his arms, in a dark green that he knows looks good on him.

By the time he’s dressed, Tyler is already pouring himself a cup of coffee. Silently, he hands a second cup to Jamie. When Jamie takes a sip, he finds it’s already been doctored to his preferences.

“I didn’t see any cream,”

“Yeah. I, uh, brought some.”

Jamie stares at him. Tyler will put in eight packs of sugar, but he hates cream in his coffee. Tyler ducks his head.

“I dragged you all the way to Ontario, it was the least I could do.”

Jamie takes another sip of his perfect coffee, speechless. Tyler turns away, and finishes pulling on a shirt. It’s as much a disappointment as it is a relief.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the Seguin family is already at the breakfast buffet, taking up an entire three tables with Thomas’ family.

Cassidy wolf whistles when they sit down, and Jamie can feel himself going red.

“You’re late,” she says, smirking. “Long night?”

“Shut up,” Tyler mutters, with more venom than Jamie would have expected. Jamie and Cassidy both give him surprised looks, but Tyler ignores them, spreading jam over his toast like it’s the most important thing in the world. Cassidy looks at Jamie, raising her eyebrows in question. Jamie shrugs, truly baffled.

From the breakfast chatter, Jamie is able to put together the rest of the plans for the day. The groomsmen and bridesmaids are getting last minute tailoring, and the rest of the families are doing a walkthrough of the space. Tyler, who had more suits than he knew what to do with and his own tailor in Dallas, is exempt from suit fittings.

“I don’t need to see the space, Mom,” he protests when Jackie offers. “I’ll see it at the rehearsal tomorrow.”

Candace sticks out her tongue at him, and Tyler sticks his out back at her. Jamie and Thomas both laugh, and Thomas gives Jamie a look that says, clear as day, can you believe how lucky we are.

It makes a lead weight settle in Jamie’s stomach, and he has to force himself to keep the smile up, to not make anyone suspicious.

In the end, he and Tyler have the rest of the morning free until everyone gets back. Jamie isn’t sure how he feels about that. On one hand, he’s glad for a reprieve from pretending to be Tyler’s loving boyfriend. But he’s also avoided a lot of one-on-one time with Tyler since the breakup, and he’s not sure he’s ready to spend the day with him in a pretense of domestic bliss.

“You should come to the fittings anyway,” Thomas’s father says, “get you know your new brother!” He claps his son on the back and Thomas winces.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas says, and Tyler shrugs.

“We don’t have other plans. Maybe I can finally get Chubbs into a suit that fits.”

“My suits fit!” Jamie protests loudly.

“Your suits are an injustice to your hockey ass and to the work you put into those arms,” Tyler says.

Jamie’s mouth works for a minute, before he gives up. “Shut up.”

Tyler smirks at him.

“So it’s settled,” Jackie says, clapping her hands together. And that, apparently, is that.

 

* * *

 

The fitting ends up being more fun than Jamie would have expected. It feels more like an episode of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ than any of the stuffy fittings for game day suits that he’s endured in the past. It helps that he and Tyler don’t have to do much.

They end up sitting together on a low couch, sipping complimentary champagne and chirping the rest of the groomsmen. Everyone else is a friend or family member of Thomas— Jamie is pretty sure he counted two brothers at least, but he’s given up on the names. He’ll never see any of them again anyway.

Three glasses of champagne in and apparently bored of watching people he doesn’t know try on vests, Tyler pulls Jamie to his feet. “We need to get you some new ties.”

Jamie gives him a baleful look. “You’ve never worn a tie in your life.” Tyler always manages to make it look good, as if he deliberately decided against it. Jamie always looks like he forgot his tie at home and is worried about it. He has that directly from their Press Manager.

“Filthy lies. I’ll be wearing a tie tomorrow,” Tyler says, holding up two ties on either side of Jamie’s face. Jamie bats him away.

“I don’t need more ties!”

“I’m going to burn your current one. It’s a crime against fashion.”

“Someone who wears a suit with a snapback cannot talk about crimes against fashion.”

“You’re just jealous that I make it look good.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Tyler puts one of the ties back and picks up a third. Resigned to his fate, Jamie lets him, only flinching back when Tyler reaches up to wind one of them around his neck.

“Stop squirming!” Tyler snaps. Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie can see two of the shop attendants turning towards him, and settles just to avoid making a scene. Tyler’s fingers are gentle over the back of his neck, looping the tie around. It’s going to look absurd over a polo shirt.

“I love this color on you,” Tyler says, eyes on his own hands.

“I can tie it myself,” Jamie says, just as soft. Tyler’s eyes jump to his, then away.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Tyler steps away, his hands lingering for just a minute. Jamie ties the tie with quick, practiced movements. It feels too tight, and he hasn’t even finished the knot.

“Ta-da,” he splays his hands for Tyler’s inspection. He was right. It looks ridiculous. The tie is only a few shades darker than the the polo, almost blending in.

Tyler doesn’t look amused though. He looks soft. “Perfect.” He leans in again, and Jamie thinks that he’s going to fix the knot. And then Tyler is pressing a kiss to his lips, sweet and chaste.

Jamie just stands there, frozen, until Tyler rocks back.

“I—” Tyler says. Then—

“Hey, Tyler!” Thomas yells, and both of them jerk their head around to the rest of the groomsmen. They’re all watching Tyler and Jamie with a kind of amused indulgence. Because Tyler and Jamie are a couple. Because Tyler was kissing him to further the ruse. Of course.

“Coming!” Tyler looks back to Jamie, looking torn. Then he picks up another tie and slaps it to Jamie’s chest. “These two.”

He steps away, moving towards the rest of the guys with his usual easy smile. Jamie looks down at the tie in his hand, a silver one with a slight star texture in the fabric. He hadn’t even seen it on display.

He gets both ties.

 

* * *

 

The unspoken part of the evening is, of course, the bachelor party. Jamie has already forgotten the name of Thomas’s best man, but he seems like a good guy, and he seems like he knows how to party.

Jamie didn’t think he or Tyler would ever get there, but they’re both a little partied out. The initial Cup celebration had lasted three full days, spent mostly in Tyler’s backyard, everyone wavering around different stages of intoxication at all times. Gerry, Marshall and Cash had been on drunk duty, and would go around to anyone passed out on the grass and lick their faces until they woke up and moved.

The rest of the month hadn’t really calmed down, impromptu parties springing up at every bar they went into, at various player houses around Dallas.

So at the bachelor party, Jamie and Tyler both claim a corner of the booth and settle in with their beers. As bachelor parties go, it’s pretty classy. Which is to say, it’s not at a strip club. Thomas seems like a pretty stand-up guy. Jamie has watched him wave off more than one girl who had  approached him at the bar.

There’s none of the ‘last day of freedom’ talk that Jamie has heard before, none of the joking about his life ending. He seems in all respects, genuinely thrilled to be marrying Candace Seguin.

“I like Thomas,” he says to Tyler, shouting to be heard over the bass. Tyler, already curled close due to the cramped space, leans further into his space to hear him. Jamie repeats himself, and Tyler makes a face.

“He’s alright,” Tyler concedes, and Jamie thinks that’s probably generous for the man marrying Tyler’s younger sister. If Tyler actually didn’t approve, he would have made his opinion clear before they got this far.

They fall silent, but Tyler doesn’t move away. Jamie’s hand is still up on the back of the booth, and in this position, it might as well be around Tyler’s shoulders.

“Do you think you’ll ever do this?” Jamie asks.

Tyler goes stiff, turning to look at him. His face is unreadable, and it’s disconcerting. He opens his mouth, then closes it. “I need another drink,” he says, and gets out of the booth.

Jamie watches him go, baffled. One of Thomas’s brothers drops into the vacated seat, already glistening with sweat. “You’re missing all the fun!”

Jamie tips his beer to him. “I’m having plenty of fun.”

The brother shakes his head. “Looks like your boy is on my side,” he nods to the dance floor. Jamie follows his gaze, and sure enough, Tyler has made his way out there. He’s taller than a good half of the crowd, easy enough to find. It’s hard to tell from the distance, but it doesn’t look like he’s dancing with any one person. It’s only a matter of time, with Tyler.

Jamie feels his drink turn to ice in his stomach, fighting to keep everything off his face. Because he’s still in front of Thomas’ family, because he has to maintain Tyler’s lie while Tyler is over there throwing it away. The feeling turns from ice to heat as anger floods through him.

“Yeah, why not,” he says to Thomas’s brother, tossing back the rest of his drink. The drinks are strong here, and standing so quickly makes him a little dizzy, but that’s never stopped him before. For a minute, he wants to go to Tyler’s side, wants to pull Tyler against him, recreate how they had woken up. In the two years they’d been sleeping together, Tyler had always chosen to go home with Jamie over anyone else.

After two years, Jamie knows Tyler’s preferences. If he went over there now, it would be easy to pull Tyler’s hips flush to his own, to lean down and whisper in Tyler’s ear until Tyler was shaking against him, until Tyler wouldn’t even remember that anyone else existed.

He forces his eyes away from where Tyler is dancing, arms in the air, shirt riding up his stomach, and tries to shut everyone else out. One of the girls in the bar— pretty, blonde, his usual type before Tyler—sways closer to him and, after the course of a song, she reaches out to put Jamie’s hands on her hips. The look she gives him under her eyelashes is bold and daring, and he can only think of how Tyler gets the same look.

Then she turns around, breaking the eye contact and putting her back flush with his chest. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s Tyler, just as he had pictured them.

He doesn’t close his eyes. It’s a dangerous thing to imagine.

It’s chance that his eyes meet Tyler, and it’s clear that Tyler is surprised to see him dancing. And then, as the girl throw her head back against Jamie’s chest, gutted.

The lights flicker over Tyler’s face, red, gold, blue, obscuring his expression. Jamie doesn’t look away, and when he can see Tyler again, his face has smoothed out. It’s not the look he gets when he dances sometimes, caught in the music, but blank in the way he has when something is broken, when he’s hiding an injury for the crowd.

Jamie’s hands tighten on the girls hips, and he can’t imagine what the hell Tyler could be hiding. He hadn’t even _cared_ when Jamie had told him they had to stop sleeping together.

Then Tyler looks away, and Jamie can’t seem to maintain that anger, not when Tyler looks like that. He leans down and excuses himself to the girl, who waves him away.

One of the non-brothers is holding the booth, but he looks pleased to see Jamie and give custody of it over to him. Jamie stares into is empty glass, trying to think through the haze of alcohol, the pounding of the music.

“Here.” A glass slides into his line of sight, whiskey on the rocks. It’s almost definitely Jameson, because Tyler thinks he’s funny.

“Thanks.”

He can see Tyler’s arm in his periphery, but he isn’t pressed close like he had been when the night started. He has his own glass, something brown and straight. Tyler doesn’t usually drink whiskey, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Tyler has done weirder things. Hell, Tyler’s done weirder things this weekend.

He can’t get that look out of his head. If Tyler had looked at him like that after they stopped sleeping together…

“I’m heading out,” Tyler says. He sways a bit when he stands, steadying himself with a hand on the table. He looks at Jamie for a long minute, then says, “Don’t let them see you leave with someone else.”

Fuck. Him.

Tyler is almost out the door before Jamie stands, anger flooding his veins again. Anger is easier to handle, easier to deal with than loneliness, or confusion, or that lost, aching look on Tyler’s face.

The night air is a pleasant relief, and he catches Tyler’s arm before he’s even down the block.

“What the fuck, Seguin,” he snaps, yanking Tyler around to face him.

Tyler won’t look at him, pulling his arm free and starting down the street again. Jamie falls into step next to him.

“Don’t ignore me, you asshole. What was that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not rocket science, Benn. They all think you’re my boyfriend, and it won’t look good if you’re fucking someone else at my sister’s wedding.” He spits out the word fucking like acid, like it hurts to say it.

“What about you, huh?”

“What about me what?” Tyler demands, stopping and glaring at him.

“You were all,” he gestures at Tyler, the sweat still beading in the hollow of his throat, making his hair stand out in individual curls.

“What, dancing?” Tyler says, sarcastic and vicious. “At least I wasn’t grinding on anyone!”

“Yeah, that’s a first,” Jamie says.

Tyler reels back. “Fuck you,” he hisses, and keeps going. It’s only a few blocks down the street to the hotel.

Jamie watches him go, the curled set of his shoulder. Then he quickens his pace to catch up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you fucking shouldn’t have.”

“I know you wouldn’t cheat on a fake relationship.” He means it as a joke, but Tyler just tucks his head down further.

“Yeah.” Then, as if he can’t help himself. “I didn’t— when we were,” he gestures between them. “I never—”

It’s not a surprise, not really. Tyler had been one to put exclusivity on the table—

(”We don’t have to use condoms anymore,” he’d said, strong thighs on either side of Jamie’s hips, beautiful smile just an inch above Jamie’s mouth. “Come on, Jamie. Just you and me.”)

—but it’s still nice to hear. To know.

“I know,” Jamie says, and means it. Whatever they had, he does trust Tyler, and Tyler wouldn’t have fucked around with either of their health like that. It hadn’t stopped him from flirting, from dancing in clubs, but Jamie had never had any claim over that. He’d been lucky to have any claim at all. Then, in case Tyler needs to hear it. “Me neither.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything, but Jamie thinks that Tyler’s shoulders loosen up, and after another minute, Tyler knocks their arms together.

Their return to the hotel is nothing like the giggling stumbles of the night before. They’re both more drunk tonight, but on whiskey and tequila rather than champagne, and the mood from the club has settled over them both. They share the bathroom in silence, and Jamie waits until Tyler gets settled to climb into the bed himself.

For a moment, he thinks that Tyler is going to curl up against him, already orienting himself towards Jamie. Then he goes still, and Jamie watches his chest rise and fall in the dim light from between the curtains.

“Hey Tyler,” Jamie says, too drunk to think better of it.

“What?”

“Why does your family think we’re dating?”

He hears Tyler draw a swift breath, sees his silhouette turn away, and he doesn’t expect to get an answer. Then, slowly, “Because I couldn’t handle telling them we broke up,” Tyler says, and pulls the blankets up and over his head, shutting himself off.

Jamie stares at the back of Tyler’s head under the sheets, frozen and still. After a few minutes, Tyler’s grip on the blankets relaxes and he slips into a restless sleep, but Jamie stays awake, because Tyler still hasn’t said why they thought they were dating in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Jamie wakes up hungover, in bed alone. There’s a bottle of water with three advil on the table next to him, with a note that reads ‘Family brunch’ in Tyler’s familiar handwriting. His heart twists when he sees it.

(Tyler usually slept later than him, but on the rare occasions he’d gotten up to walk the dogs or for early meetings, he’d always left a note.

“I don’t want you to think I left you.” He’d said, kissing Jamie’s cheek.

“It’s your house.”

Tyler had shrugged. “It sucks to wake up alone after a good night.” He’d waggled his eyebrows in a way he clearly thought was sexy but which mostly looked absurd. “We could still make it a good morning though.”)

Thomas is at the breakfast table when Jamie drags himself downstairs, looking as bad as Jamie feels. Jamie, at least, isn’t wearing sunglasses indoors.

“Rough night?” Jamie asks, dropping down next to him. Thomas hisses at him, and Jamie grins. “This will help.” He slides across a second plate, more heavily loaded with grease than his own. The plate he had wanted to eat, if he hadn’t been worrying about his off-season meal plan. Thomas takes a breath and goes green.

Jamie watches him, methodically working through his own plate of eggs. After a moment, Thomas recovers and starts in on the sausage links like they might be poisonous.

“How are you still, still, not dying?”

Jamie grins around a mouthful of food. “I learned to party with the pros.”

Thomas groans and slumps back to the table. The two of them finish the meal in silence, which is nice in it’s own way. Tyler was usually disgusting chipper after a night drinking—he’d chug two cups of coffee and be good to go.

Jamie watches hotel patrons come and go, trying to guess who is here for the wedding and who is visiting the area for fun. It’s the day before the wedding, but still early in the morning, so he figures he has a 50/50 shot either way. Thomas starts to look more alive after finishing his plate, managing to get mostly upright and losing the sunglasses.

“Nervous?” Jamie asks, genuinely curious. He’s never really thought about getting married, never really seen it as an option. The closest he’d ever gotten was sleeping with the same person for two years, and look where that had gotten him.

“Terrified,” Thomas say and grins. “Absolutely fucking terrified.”

“Yeah? You two seem good together.”

The look that spreads across Thomas’s face, like the sun has come up, makes Jamie feel abruptly very lonely. “She’s amazing. I just—I’m not worried about her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I just want to make her happy, you know?”

Jamie can’t help but think of Tyler, flushed with a hard game, screaming in Jamie’s face as they lifted the Cup together.  Tyler, the first time he’d kissed Jamie, leaning back to look at him, laughter in every line of his face, but his eyes entirely focused on Jamie.

Jamie clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Thomas slumps against him, leaning his head on Jamie’s arm. “You get it, man. This family. You get it.” He hiccups. “They’re just so great.”

Jamie wants to laugh, wants to find it funny, but it feels more like he has a lump in his throat, impossible to breathe around. “Alright, buddy, let’s get you up.”

He helps Thomas get to the elevators where, thank god, they run into one of the brothers and Jamie is able to delegate responsibility. Hopefully Thomas’ family will have pulled him together by the rehearsal.

Tyler is already back in the room by the time Jamie gets up there, hair wet from the shower. He looks up when Jamie comes in, and Jamie notices, for maybe the first time, how _tired_ Tyler looks. How tired he has looked, even before they started the playoffs, when all of them started looking thin and ragged.

“How you doing?” Tyler asks, and it takes Jamie a minute to realize that he means the hangover, because he feels scraped raw by his conversation with Thomas. Thomas, who had acted like Jamie was part of the family, who had seen him as the same— the two of them bound by a love of the Seguin family.

Thomas is the lucky one. He gets the ring, the wedding. He gets the happily ever after.

“I’m fine,” Jamie lies.

Tyler’s eyes search his face, questioning.

(”It’s all over your face, babe,” Tyler had laughed, his arms around Jamie’s neck. “I can always tell what you’re feeling.” And Jamie had always been so scared it was true, that Tyler could see just how much Jamie loved him. That Tyler pretending not to see it was as much of an answer as he would ever get.)

He doesn’t call Jamie on the lie, and Jamie doesn’t know which is worse—that he might not have noticed that Jamie was lying, or that he just didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

The rehearsal goes perfectly, aside from the fact that Jamie feels very much like an outsider. There are a few other stragglers on the sidelines, the wives of Thomas’s brothers, mostly, but every moment feels like a reminder that Jamie doesn’t belong here.

It’s almost worse that no one is actively making him feel like that. Jackie had refused to let him stay at the hotel during the rehearsal, and Cassidy keeps looking to Jamie and rolling her eyes whenever something stupid happens. Instead, it’s all a reminder of what he doesn’t get to have.

(He’s entertained the idea of marrying Tyler, in his weaker moments. Of standing up in a building like this, with Jackie fussing over them both and Tyler’s sisters giving everyone a hard time, and Jordie telling everyone that it’s about time at top volume. Tyler would probably have Gerry be the ringbearer, because he has a favorite even if he pretends otherwise. That, or he’d find some excuse for a third ring and assign one to each dog.)

The thought makes his stomach hurt, makes it hard to look at where Tyler is joking around with his sisters as the wedding planner tries to get them to all walk out in the right order. With Tyler as the only guy in Candace’s party and Thomas having only his brothers and male friends, it ends up meaning that Tyler walks down the aisle arm-in-arm with Thomas’s older brother.

The brother offers his arm in an overly solicitous manner, and Tyler takes it with the same care, and he’s still grinning when he meets Jamie’s eyes. It’s like a punch to the gut, but Jamie manages to roll his eyes instead of something horribly embarrassing. Like cry.

So, the rehearsal is mostly a success from Jamie’s point of view, and entirely a success from the point of view of the bride and groom.

Which means, of course, that the rehearsal dinner has nowhere to go but down.

Jamie gets his first sense of how bad it will go when Jackie catches his arm before the meal starts. She’s obviously gotten a headstart on the wine, and Jamie can’t even blame her. If he knew where the waiters were keeping it, he would have done the same.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, pulling Jamie into a hug. “You make Tyler so, so happy.”

Jamie doesn’t have a reply to that, because the objective truth is no, he hadn’t.

“I’m just so glad you two made up after your fight,” she says.

“I—fight?” Jamie repeats, because it’s been a long time since he and Tyler had any kind of fight worth mentioning.

Jackie waves it away. “Oh, he didn’t tell me the details, you know how he is. He’ll say anything that crosses his mind, but he’ll never say a thing when he’s hurting.” She pats Jamie’s cheek. “Whatever happened in January, I know it upset him. More than he probably told you. So, I’m glad you worked it out.”

She pulls him into another hug, then gives him a motherly buss on the cheek.

Jamie just stands there, reeling. Because January is when he’d called it off, and Tyler hadn’t seemed sad to him. Not at all.

 

* * *

 

Jamie retreats back to the tables after that, drinking steadily from the wine at his elbow and watching as Tyler flits from person to person.

Had Tyler been upset that Jamie had called it off? Would Jamie have noticed if he had? He’d tried hard not to be weird about it afterwards, not like he’d broken his own heart in the process, but he’d also spent most of February trying very hard not to look Tyler in the eye. He hadn’t wanted to see how little Tyler cared.

Now, he has to wonder what he might have seen instead.

Because, none of the pieces add up to Tyler being indifferent. Tyler, who had apparently told his entire family after the first time they’d kissed, who had told everyone he loved that they were dating. Tyler, who hadn’t been able to tell his family when they broke up, even after six months.

He catches Tyler’s eyes when he reaches for another drink and Tyler quirks an eyebrow at him, silently checking in. Jamie feels his chest clench, his throat going tight, and he can’t bring himself to smile, to play it off. Tyler breaks off his conversation and heads towards Jamie, dropping down next to him.

“You good?”

Jamie could really use something harder, actually. “Just thinking.”

Tyler jostles their shoulders together. “Dangerous road, Captain.” When Jamie doesn’t rise to the bait, Tyler’s face softens, and he relaxes into Jamie’s side, their shoulders still touching. “What’s up?”

“All this,” he gestures at the guests. “The wedding. It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I never thought— I’m really happy for Candace. Of course I am. But it’s hard.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Jamie asks again, not sure he’ll get a better answer this time. Tyler’s eyes jump to him, and there is something hard in his expression, something Jamie hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I’d thought about it, yeah,” Tyler says, careful. Jamie feels his stomach sink.

“Right. Yeah, of course.” Jamie doesn’t want to do something as telling as drain his drink, so he restrains himself to a single sip. After a beat, Tyler reaches over and takes it from him, and he _does_ down it.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” Tyler says. “I know it’s not what you—but just, thanks for coming with me. Everyone is really happy to see you.”

“They barely know me,” Jamie protests.

“Are you kidding? Chubs, it’s been ten years. I think my mom would adopt you if she could- even if I didn’t—” he cuts himself off, ears going red. “You’re always welcome in this family, even if,” his throat works for a minute, “even if there’s nothing else, okay?”

He’s had more than his fair share of alcohol, which is the only excuse for why he says “Just what I want, to stay around being Uncle Jamie for the rest of my life.” The last thing he wants is to attend Tyler’s wedding like he’s attending this one. To sit by himself and drink and watch Tyler be in love with someone else. To be invited into the Seguin family but never apart of it.

“Right,” Tyler ducks his head. All traces of his flush are gone, and he looks startlingly pale under his scruff. “Right, of course. I shouldn’t—”

Jamie puts his hand over Tyler’s, clumsy with it. “I didn’t meant it like that. I love your family, you know I do.”

Tyler gives him a watery smile, and Jamie feels like the two of them are having a conversation he only half understands. “I know you do. I shouldn’t have said it— of course you’ll have your own family to be welcome in.” He pulls his hand out from under Jamie’s, and gestures around them. “You’ll have your own wedding, be Uncle Jamie to someone else’s family.” He trips over the last word, breath catching in his throat. Then he turns to look at Jamie, his heart in his eyes. “You’re going to make someone so, so happy, Jamie.”

“Tyler,” Jamie breathes.

Tyler drags a hand over his mouth and looks away. “Sorry. Sorry, this whole wedding thing, it’s fucking me up. I promise I won’t be weird about it again.”

“Tyler—”

Tyler is already on his feet. “I need to ask Mom something. I’ll catch you later.” He claps Jamie on the shoulder, and heads back into the crowd. It’s all a mess of both extended families and college friends and Candace’s WNHL team and more people Jamie doesn’t know and probably never will. It’s not like he’s going to be back.

He stares into his empty glass. The way Tyler talked, the way he looked at him. It’s not how you look at someone you’ve just been fucking, even after two years. Not unless there’s something else there. He texts Jordie under the table and scowls when he doesn’t get an immediate reply.

The sound of cutlery on glass makes him look up, where Jackie is standing on a chair and clinking a knife against her glass of champagne. Jamie has to smile at the way Tyler hovers next to her, as if worried she’ll fall off.

“I’m sure everyone here is as hungry as I am!” she calls, to a loud cheer. “So, everyone find your place cards and let’s eat!”

Jackie takes Tyler’s hand and lets him help her down. She leans in to say something to Tyler, and his head jerks up to look at Jamie. When their eyes meet, when Tyler realizes that Jamie was already watching him, Tyler flushes and drops his gaze. He says something else to his mom, and lets her go.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to find their seats, and Jamie finds himself between Tyler and Cassidy, a situation made easier by the fact that the waiters have put out new bottles of wine on the table and already topped off Jamie’s glass. Jamie isn’t much of a wine guy, but this one is pretty good.

He focuses on pacing himself, letting the conversation wash over him. Tyler won’t mind. It’s one of his favorite things about Tyler—he’ll never let Jamie get left out of a conversation, but he doesn’t get upset if Jamie wants to leave himself out.

Cassidy nudges him halfway through the second course. “So, when are you and Tyler going to tie the knot,” she asks, playful.

Jamie freezes and beside him Tyler jerks, knocking over his glass of wine.

“Fuck,” he says, grabbing his napkin and dabbing at the damage. He glass was almost empty, so there’s almost nothing spilled, but the noise had caught the attention of their neighbors.

“All right there, Ty?” Candace asks, grinning. She and Thomas are on the other side of the table and two down from Tyler.

“All good,” Tyler calls back, uncharacteristically curt.

“I was just asking when he and Jamie were going to get hitched!” Cassidy calls over Jamie, and Tyler gives her a dirty look.

“Jamie and I are going to elope,” he says. “So we don’t have to deal with any of you.”

“Boo!” Candace yells down the table. She and Thomas both give them dramatic thumbs down.

“Jamie wouldn’t do that to us,” Cassidy says. “Jamie loves us, don’t you, Jamie?”

“Sorry, Cass. I go where Tyler goes,” Jamie says, too honest. The look Tyler gives him, surprised and pleased, makes it worth it.

Cassidy makes a vomiting sound in her mouth. “You two are worse than the newlyweds.”

Jamie looks down at Candace and Thomas. Thomas is putting more food on her plate, the two of them laughing and looking at one another like the world could end around them and it wouldn’t matter.

“We’re not that bad,” Jamie says.

Cassidy looks at him, and Jamie realizes that he’s halfway through absently putting more mashed potatoes on Tyler’s plate. He can feel himself flush, and he wants to snap at her, get that smug, knowing look off of her face. Then Tyler’s hand settles over his, squeezing lightly.

“Thanks, babe,” Tyler says. To Cassidy, he says, “we haven’t really talked about it.”

Cassidy rolls her eyes. “Better get on that. Mom wants grandbabies, like, yesterday.”

Jamie’s throat goes tight just thinking about. About how goddamn good Tyler is with kids, about how he’d been with baby Seguin, as careful and delicate as if the baby were made of glass.

“She’ll have to make do with her granddogs,” Tyler says easily, and Jamie takes a deep breath to steady himself.

He has to remind himself that Tyler doesn’t want that, that Tyler has never had a serious relationship in his life, that Tyler — that Tyler looked at him today like Jamie had broken his heart.

He tosses back the rest of his wine glass, already reaching for the bottle to refill it.

“Easy tiger,” Tyler says, steadying the bottle when it wobbles slightly in Jamie’s grip. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Jamie lets Tyler help him refill his glass, then Tyler refills his own while Cassidy watches them both with wide eyes.

“You guys okay?” she asks carefully.

“Fine,” Jamie says, at the same time that Tyler says “Great.”

Their eyes meet, and Tyler gives him a resigned, tired look. Jamie knows exactly how he feels. He taps his glass against Tyler’s in a small toast.

The rest of the dinner passes almost completely without incident. Thomas’s parents both make speeches, as does Thomas’ older brother.

Then the DJ puts on the kind of heavy-bassed music that is better suited to a dark club and cheap drinks, and everyone is getting to their feet.

“I thought dancing was for the actual wedding,” he asks Cassidy.

She grins at him, the same mischievous smile as her brother. “We figured that everyone could use a break after over an hour spent socializing.” She grabs Jamie’s hand and pulls him out behind her. “Tomorrow is for everyone, but this is just for family.”

Jamie isn’t very good at dancing, and he’s certainly not going to dance with Cassidy like he dances with girls in a club, but they find their own rhythm. They’re both on the far side of tipsy, and Jamie almost falls over laughing when Cassidy tries to spin him and he can’t get low enough to get under her arm.

“I can’t believe this,” Tyler says, catching Jamie when he almost goes down. “You’re leaving me for another Seguin.”

“Sorry, bro,” Cassidy says. “I was just swept off my feet by his hat trick against the Flyers.”

“I’ll show you swept off your feet,” Tyler says, and ducks down enough to get his shoulder in Cassidy’s stomach and hoist her up over his shoulder.

Cassidy shrieks and almost kicks Jamie in the face as she flails. “Put me down!”

Tyler spins around once while Cassidy laughs and shrieks. “I’m going to barf on you, Ty, I swear I will,” she says, and Tyler gives her another spin before lowering her carefully to the ground.

“And that’s what you get for trying to steal my boyfriend!”

Cassidy’s face is flushed, her hair a dizzy mess around her face and she’s still giggling when she says “You’re right, that’s on me. Sorry, Jamie, looks like you’re stuck with him.”

“Looks like,” Jamie says, and it should be too loud for Tyler to hear him, but Tyler’s eyes meet his, and the sparks that flare up between them are familiar. The look Tyler gives him, searing hot and blurred slightly with alcohol, feels like coming home.

The beat around them is familiar too, could be any club on any roadie where they won’t get recognized, the few places they let themselves be careless. He doesn’t notice when Cassidy ducks out, when Tyler steps in close to him, when his hands fall to Tyler’s hips.

There’s space between them, enough to keep him sane, enough for plausible deniability, but Tyler’s breath is on his neck, and it’s just one time. Just one last time, try to exorcise all the feelings that the weekend has shaken up.

Between one beat and the next, Jamie tips Tyler’s face up to his and kisses him.

Tyler makes a noise, jerks in his arms like he might pull away, and then melts into him.

It’s a stupid idea. They’ve both been drinking, he can taste the wine on Tyler’s lips, can feel the way his own head spins, but he can’t pull away. It’s like he’s been starving for this, to have Tyler against him again. He made it all the way through the playoffs with Tyler just a step away, too close and too far, driving him out of his mind. He wanted to kiss him after every win, needed to hug him after every loss. He spent the night of the playoffs drunk out of his mind so he wouldn’t reach for Tyler, wouldn’t kiss him with the Cup between them. He spent over six months longing for this.

He thinks he might give up the Cup, his gold medal, the Art Ross, everything, just to hold Tyler like this. Just to keep his mouth against Tyler’s, feel Tyler hot against him.

“We can’t,” Tyler gasps, and Jamie tries to force his head to clear. He’s dizzy with Tyler’s nearness, drunk on his kisses. He wants to never stop.

“Upstairs,” he replies, putting his mouth on the spot behind Tyler’s ear that always makes him shake. Tyler’s head tips back, allowing him access. If Tyler makes a noise, Jamie can’t hear it over the bass, and it’s unforgivable. He wraps his hand around Tyler’s wrist and pulls him off of the dance floor. One of the brothers gives him two thumbs up as they pass him, and Jamie flushes.

They keep their hands to themselves in the elevator by long practice— nowhere with cameras. But Jamie can’t stop looking, at how Tyler is already flushed, his mouth bitten red from Jamie’s kisses. His hair is a mess, his shirt untucked from his jeans, and Jamie _wants._

They fall into the room, and Jamie slams Tyler back up against the door as soon as it closes. It’s been two years, he knows what Tyler likes.

“Jamie,” Tyler pants against his mouth, “Jamie, please.”

Jamie has never been able to deny him when he asks.

“Yeah, I got you,” he says, and he hits his knees hard enough to hurt, too drunk and dizzy with longing to be graceful.

“Oh, fuck,” Tyler says, his head hitting the door as he throws it back. Jamie unbuttons his jeans on the third try, fingers clumsy with alcohol, and tugs them down to Tyler’s ankles.

Tyler’s cock bobs free, already hard and flushed at the head. Jamie’s mouth waters and yes, _yes,_ this is what he wants. This is what he’s been missing.

Tyler threads his hands into Jamie’s hair when Jamie leans in, groans when Jamie takes him into his mouth. Tyler is hot and heavy against his tongue, the taste and feel of him familiar. The noises he makes are familiar, the hands in Jamie’s hair are familiar, careful not to pull.

Jamie already feels on the edge, just from this, but when he looks up to meet Tyler’s eyes, Tyler has an arm over his face, his mouth open as he pants desperately. Tyler always watches him when he does this, will cup his free hand over Jamie’s face, will tell him he’s beautiful, tell him—

Jamie pulls off, and Tyler makes a desperate noise. “Look at me,” Jamie says, his voice already hoarse. “Watch me.”

“I can’t,” Tyler says.

Jamie gets to his feet and pulls Tyler’s arm off his face, kisses him. Tyler kisses him back, sways into him, lets Jamie guide him to the bed and push him down.

Jamie settles between Tyler’s thighs, but doesn’t touch his dick. He wants Tyler to look at him, wants to see his face. Wants to see that look he’d seen at the table, like Tyler could love him.

He presses slow kisses to Tyler’s thighs, the inside of his knee, his hip.

“Jamie, please, don’t,” Tyler’s voice comes out wet and choked.

“Look at me, Tyler,” Jamie says, letting his breath ghost over his obliques.

“I can’t.”

Jamie scowls, and swallows Tyler’s cock as far as he can go. It’s been awhile, and he chokes a little when Tyler hits the back of his throat. Tyler makes an aborted thrust, and Jamie pins his hips down. He’s going to _make_ Tyler look at him. Tyler can’t think of anyone else when he’s in bed with Jamie. Only Jamie.

He takes Tyler apart with his mouth, until Tyler is shaking under him, and Tyler still won’t look at him. Gently, Jamie takes Tyler’s hand from his hair and tangles their fingers together, interlaced on the sheets next to Tyler’s hip.

That does it, and Tyler’s eyes snap to his. Jamie wants to grin, rewards Tyler by hollowing his mouth around him, taking him deeper.

(He gets the sense memory, Tyler’s fingers between his—the way that Tyler had taken his hand that night, had fucked him slowly and carefully, eyes locked on Jamie, how their fingers had been laced when Tyler had told him, had said that he loved him, and looked at him like he meant it.)

“Jamie,” Tyler gasps, and it comes out more like a sob. And then, “Jamie, stop.”

It takes Jamie a moment to get it, and then he stills, lets Tyler nudge him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? What did I—”

“I can’t,” Tyler says, and his voice breaks. “Jamie, don’t do this to me. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Jamie looks down at them both, at where Tyler is still hard underneath him. “Sex?” Sex is all they _ever_ did, was all they’d had. The knowledge that, if he’d needed to, he could have it again, had been an anchor in his mind over the past few months.

Tyler pushes him off, and pulls on his pants. “I can’t do this with you, Jamie. I’m— you dumped _me,_ you don’t get to do this to me.”

“I didn’t _dump_ you,” Jamie snaps. “I just didn’t want to sleep with you anymore.”

He sees it hit Tyler like a blow, sees him reel from it.

“Fuck you,” Tyler says, low and cold. Jamie reaches for him and Tyler jerks away. “Don’t _touch_ me.” He finishes buttoning up his pants and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Jamie sinks down onto the bed, slow. He doesn’t know what— he can’t.

He can only stare at the door, at Tyler’s shoes left on the ground. He’d left without his shoes.

His phone chimes, and Jamie picks it up in a daze. Jordie has finally gotten back to him.

He’d texted ‘ _Were Tyler and I dating?’_

And Jordie’s reply ‘ _Is this a trick question?’_

Jamie closes his eyes and breathes. Then, after a moment, turns his phone off. He’s been an idiot.

 

* * *

 

Jamie sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning. The bed smells like Tyler, traces of his cologne clinging to the sheets and the pillows. Jamie finds himself on Tyler’s side of the bed, which even he knows is pretty pathetic. Tyler doesn’t come back, and Jamie doesn’t know if he expects him to.

He keeps turning over the last two years in his head. How Tyler had insisted that Jamie help him pick out presents for his family. How, for all Tyler flirts, Jamie hasn’t seen him go home with anyone else in two years. The way that Tyler had asked if Jamie wanted to visit him over the summer.

At the time, Jamie had taken it as a pity-offer, since Tyler was always surrounded by other friends all summer, and could hardly be wanting for company.

He thinks of the key on his keyring, the one that opens Tyler’s house, and how little use the other keys had gotten.

He thinks of the morning he had told Tyler they had to stop. The sun spilling over the table, the dogs running around their feet. Tyler had made breakfast, pancakes a little too crispy around the edges and definitely not on their meal plan. Tyler had said he loved him. Had said it before, but never like that, never with their fingers laced. Jamie called it off because, even at the time he’d known what they’d done wasn’t fucking, was something deeper and more meaningful than that. It hadn’t occurred to him that it had been like that for awhile.

When his alarm goes off, Jamie is only barely asleep, and Tyler still hasn’t come back.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t see Tyler until it’s time for pictures. Jamie had planned to skip them entirely, but Jackie had caught him in one of the halls and made him promise to be there. Apparently, he can’t say no to any member of the Seguin family.

Tyler looks amazing. He always does, but this is beyond what Jamie has come to expect from him. He’s wearing a suit that fits him perfectly, hugging every curve that Jamie has become so familiar with, his hair perfectly styled.

Jamie feels like a mess next to him, his best game day suit seems drab in comparison. Tyler’s eyes fall on him, and Jamie can’t tell what he’s thinking. Absently, he strokes his hand over his tie, and watches Tyler follow the motion with his eyes. Jamie is wearing the tie that Tyler had picked out for him, and he knows that Tyler knows it.

“I told you it was a good color on you,” Tyler says, but his usual chirping smile is faded. At close range, he looks tired.

“Green looks good on me? Someone should probably tell the Stars PR team.”

Tyler snorts, smile going a little more real. “You looking hot in your gear isn’t going to save you from our PR team.”

“You think I look hot in my gear?” Jamie asks, smirking.

Tyler doesn’t flinch, but something in him goes tense, so slight that Jamie doubts anyone else would even notice. “You’re just lucky you get victory green. Just think, you could have been a Penguin.”

“The horror,” Jamie agrees, and is rewarded by another small smile.

They watch the photographer corral Thomas and his family for a few minutes, and Jamie can almost _feel_ the tension building next to him.

It’s not such a surprise when Tyler turns to him, leaning in so that no one else could hear him.

“I’m sorry I made it weird last night. I know I said I wouldn’t, just—” Tyler swallows, “I need to get over you, you know? I can’t do that if you—if we keep having sex. Okay?”

The words ‘get over you’ seem to echo between them, bouncing around in Jamie’s head, setting off sparks. Get over him, because Tyler loves him. Because there is something to get over,

Before Jamie fucked it up.

“Tyler,” he says, and he feels like everything is right there on his face, right there in his voice. But Tyler isn’t looking at him, and Jamie knows what it looks like when Tyler is bracing for a hit.

“Okay, Jamie?” Tyler repeats, and his jaw is clenched tight, his hands whiteknuckled at his side. There isn’t enough time to say everything that he needs to say, to make the apologies he needs to make, and Tyler looks like he might vibrate apart at his side.

“Okay,” he says, because he can give Tyler that at least.

This whole time, he hasn’t thought of Tyler at all. He’d called it off and assumed that Tyler was fine, but in hindsight, it’s clear that he wasn't. He’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice that he’d been all but living with Tyler.

Even once they’d broken up (and god, they had broken up, hadn’t they?) he’d been so sure that he could just _have_ Tyler again whenever he wanted, that it was only Jamie’s feelings that mattered. He’d been so sure that all he’d need to do was ask, and Tyler would fall back into his bed and Jamie could spend another night pretending.

He needs to make it up to Tyler— he needs to know what Tyler wants. And if it’s not Jamie, then he’s going to have to accept that. He’s already had a chance, had two golden years, and it’s not Tyler’s fault that Jamie missed it.

The photographer calls for the bride’s family, and Tyler jerks his head at Jamie, indicating him to follow. Because they all consider him a part of the Seguin family.

He poses like the photographer tells him, a familiar job after years of photoshoots, but he can’t help looking at Tyler. The sun is catching in his hair, and Jamie feels so caught up in love with him. He can hear the camera go off, and it must be clear in every picture. Anyone could look at these pictures and see how much he fucking loves Tyler Seguin.

And then he’s dismissed to stand with Jackie while they get photos of the rest of the wedding party. Jamie always loves watching Tyler with his sisters, how much they love him. How much he loves them.

Jackie has both her hands pressed over her mouth, watching her three children, and Jamie loves this entire family so much it aches.

 

* * *

 

He loses Tyler after that, doesn’t see him again until he walks down the aisle with Thomas’s older brother. And—Jamie is in the crowd, but he can’t help but think, watching Tyler walk towards him, maybe. Maybe, if he’s very, very lucky.

The wedding goes perfectly, even if Jamie ends up watching Tyler more than the happy couple. He listens to their vows, touching and sincere, and watches Tyler react to it, watches joy and something like longing cross Tyler’s face and feels hope so tight it could choke him.

Tyler’s eyes are suspiciously wet when the officiant pronounces the couple man and wife, and Jamie resolves to chirp him about it later.

Then Tyler catches his eyes and Jamie feels emotion surge through him, all that love and affection turned on him now, and that resolve dies. There’s nothing chirpable about this. Whatever Tyler sees on Jamie’s face, it makes his eyes go wide before he jerks his head around to Candace and Thomas.

His eyes keep cutting back to Jamie after that though, and everytime he realizes that Jamie is still watching him, his ears get a little redder. By the time Candace and Thomas leave, the flush has spread charmingly over Tyler’s cheeks.

Jamie wants to catch him, wants to talk to him now, wants to explain everything.

But, of course, this isn’t his moment. They’re here, at the end of the day, for Candace, and Tyler won't thank him for ruining his sister's wedding. So he keeps it in, holding his feelings just behind his teeth through the last round of photos, the shuffle to the reception. He’s held it all back for so long, it feels unbearable to not be able to pull Tyler aside now and let it all spill out. He feels like every moment that he doesn’t say anything, Tyler slips further and further away from him.

More than that, he keeps catching sight of Tyler’s face, the lines of stress around his mouth, the dark circles under his eyes, the way that he seems so tired, despite his clear joy at the occasion. He has so much to make up to Tyler, he doesn’t know where to start.

It feels like ages before the emcee announces the wedding party and Tyler comes in behind his sister, laughing and joking with Cassidy. Some of the joy fades out of him when he catches Jamie’s eyes, but he comes around to take the seat next to Jamie with a smile.

Jamie stands to pull out his chair before he can think better of it, nerves making him edgy. Tyler raises his eyebrow at him, amused.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, taking his seat. Jamie sits back down, feeling his cheeks heat.

The first course passes in a daze, Jamie keep running through different ways of saying all the things he wants to. None of them seem big enough, seem good enough. He’s never been good with words, and as much as Tyler appreciates a big gesture, he doubts Tyler would like it if Jamie hijacked the mike before the speeches even start.

“You’re being quiet,” Tyler says, nudging him halfway through the meal.

“It’s nothing,” Jamie says. It’s everything.

Tyler squeezes his arm, a familiar, comforting gesture. Jamie catches his hand as Tyler withdraws it, lacing their fingers together. Tyler starts and one look at his face tells Jamie that Tyler has the same sense memory that he does, that Tyler is thinking of that night.

“Jamie,” Tyler says warningly, carefully, but doesn’t pull away.

The crackle of the mike interrupts anything Jamie might have said— might have failed to say.

They listen to the speeches in silence, Tyler’s hand still tight in his. He sweeps his thumb in small arcs over Tyler’s knuckles as Jackie speaks, and then Thomas’ mother, followed by the maid of honor and the best man.

  


Tyler still isn’t looking at him by the time the dancing starts, but Jamie can see tears in his eyes as Jackie dances with Candace in the parent-daughter dance, both of the Seguin women twirling one another and laughing giddily.

He isn’t expecting it when the emcee opens the floor up to the rest of the bridal party, but maybe he should have been. He can’t even remember the last wedding he attended. Tyler gets to his feet, their hands still clasped together.

“You don’t have to,” Tyler says, but it’s clear that he wants to be out there with his family. Jamie wonders what Tyler would do if Jamie let go, let him walk out there alone?

Tyler wouldn’t push, wouldn’t ask again. If Jamie dropped his hand now, Tyler would go on the dance floor with his head held high, with a smile on his face, as though it didn’t bother him at all.

Jamie knows better now.

He doesn’t let go of Tyler when he stands up, and Jamie is the one who leads them both onto the dance floor. It’s a slow song, the kind Jamie has never known how to dance to. He still doesn’t, but it doesn’t seem to matter, it feels natural to put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, to keep Tyler’s hand in his. He never wants to let go.

Next to them, Cassidy and her boyfriend are doing an exaggerated and very bad impersonation of a waltz, while Thomas has taken Candace back from Jackie, swaying close to her, their foreheads pressed together.

Being this close to Tyler is as intoxicating as it’s always been, even as they just sway in place. Tyler hesitates before his hand lands on Jamie’s waist, holding onto him tight enough to feel through his suit.

“Jamie, what are you doing?” Tyler asks again.

Jamie tightens his hold on Tyler’s hand, enough to let Tyler feel it, intent and purposeful. “You know, you never asked me.”

He watches something a lot like panic, a lot like shock, cross Tyler’s face before he licks his lips. “Asked what?”

“If I wanted to get married. Someday.”

Tyler drops his head, looks away. “Jamie, don’t this to me. You’re not this person.” He tugs at their joined hands, but Jamie doesn’t let him go.

“I do,” Jamie says. “Want to get married. To the right person.”

He can see the sweep of Tyler’s eyelashes as he closes his eyes, the way he’s leaning away from Jamie, expecting another blow.

“I didn’t think it was something you were interested in,” Jamie says, honestly. Everyone around them is still talking, laughing, but the world has narrowed down to him and Tyler, to the space between them. “I’m so fucking in love with you, and I thought you were just looking for a convenient fuck.”

Tyler reels back, and only Jamie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him within arms reach as he stares, incredulous. “No offense, but what the actual _fuck,_ Jamie,” Tyler snaps, real anger in his voice.

Jamie pulls Tyler back in, gently, giving Tyler room to pull away, and leans their foreheads together, because he can’t look at Tyler while he says this. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize. I never thought you could fall in love with me, and it was killing me, being so close to what I wanted. I didn’t realize I was already there.”

“Jamie,” Tyler says, and his voice breaks. Jamie wants to kiss him, kiss that broken note out of his mouth, soothe over any hurt with his lips. “Jamie, I told you I loved you, and you broke up with me. That really,” he swallows, and this close, Jamie can hear how his throat clicks when he does. “It really fucked me up. I thought we were building this thing together, and then you were gone.”

Jamie cups Tyler’s jaw with his hand, feeling the scrape of Tyler’s beard against his palm. “I thought you were just being Tyler, you know? I didn’t think you meant it, and I couldn’t handle you saying it. I was starting to believe you, and I knew it would suck so much when we stopped.”

Tyler chuckles, a little wet, “You absolute fucking moron. I _was_ being Tyler. Tyler just happens to be fucking in love with you.”

Jamie can’t not kiss him. He tips Tyler’s face up with the hand on his face, turning Tyler into him and takes his mouth. It’s not like how they’ve kissed before, it’s gentle and soft, their lips clinging, taking slow, careful sips of one another.

When they finally break apart, they’re both short of breath, their chests brushing together as they gasp.

“I was going to ask you to move in with me,” Tyler admits.

It’s Jamie’s turn to laugh, and he’s almost glad that he’s not the only one who’s missed things in this thing between them. “I already have.”

Tyler drops his head onto Jamie’s shoulder and slowly starts to laugh. “Oh my god, you _had_. I still have like, half your clothes.”

“I kept wondering where all my shirts went,” Jamie admits.

“You walked my dogs.”

“I hadn’t been back to my house for two weeks before we broke up.”

Tyler kisses him again. “Okay, so we’re both a little stupid.”

Jamie sobers. “I was worse, though. I’m sorry. I should have realized—I should have trusted you more. I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

Tyler beams at him, and Jamie can’t believe he ever thought Tyler was fine, when his happiness now is so clear, and so, so different from what it has been over the past six months. “You’ll just have to make it up to me, then.”

Jamie kisses him, and, in a goofy, impulsive move, dips him. “Yeah,” he says, as Tyler laughs, “I can do it.”

If he’s lucky, he’ll get to spend the rest of his life making it up to Tyler.  


End file.
